I just finished the last season of Downton Abbey, so this is my tribute to a show that brought me very mixed feelings but much enjoyment.
It was an imposing structure, when seen from afar. Honey-colored stone, poured into battlements and towers like a very elaborate cake. Walking up the gravel drive, through the iron gates, one had a sense that this is where important people did things. The front entrance was grand, and when a member of the family or any important guest came there was always an entourage all around to greet them, an army of uniformed maids, liveried footman, the stern butler, and the ladies of the house in their swanky beaded dresses. The hall was grand, beautiful carpets and famous paintings, while the library was filled with books and red couches by a roaring fire. The servants bustled about in their halls below, laughing with the camaraderie born of long nights and festive parties, of being there with each other and the family they served through thick and through thin. When you thought about it, a house should just be a house, but it had always been more than, and everyone knew that.